


El Tango de Virgil

by Jojo28



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Blood, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, Explicit Language, Homophobic Language, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Prostitution, Rape, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Sex, Sex Work, Sexual Assault, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Suicidal Thoughts, Unsympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25562683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jojo28/pseuds/Jojo28
Summary: A shorter story based mostly on the song "El Tango de Roxanne" from Moulin Rouge, except set in modern day, a little more serious, and of course slightly adapted to fit the Sanders sides.Virgil’s had a rough childhood, and like most kids from a broken home there’s a fucked up sense of how the world works. Unfortunately you start to think there’s only one option left for you that you can’t fail at. But sometimes the desperation buries you six feet under, and it’d be a miracle if you pulled yourself out.TW: This one's pretty rough, check the tags.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Platonic LAMP
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	El Tango de Virgil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil is keeping some big secrets, and suffering in silence.

_Lay where you're laying. Don't make a sound._

I could feel the stark coldness of the metal pole in contrast to the increasing heat of the room. It's been a while since I had danced. I usually take more... _private_ calls, as of late. But hey I’ve been a little short on money lately.

_I know they're watching._

I stepped down as I heard the next name called out. I retreated to the back to wait for a scheduled private session I had that day, on the way taking a small stash of cash from a man who looking ready to jump up on stage. I slid it into my outfit like the other small stacks I was handed. 

_They're watching_.

I remembered to sway my hips as I walked through the curtained doorway. They're always watching, be sure to give them a show. That's how you get enough money to survive. That's how you've always survived. That and practically starving yourself so you don't overspend. Plus, I was told the vultures liked 'em scrawny. Something about seeming feminine. 

_All the_ _commotion. The kitty like play._

 _The Black Kat_ is the name is this place. To the unsuspecting eye, it looks just like any old bar on the outside. If you're a _lucky_ man though, you can get invited to the back and see the... truly wondrous world of male strippers dressed like girls and absolute depravity. For an extra couple bucks you could fuck one of the ones available.

I stepped out to a dirty linoleum-floored hallway with bright fluorescent lights. There were costumes and even wigs strewn about. It's our make-shift backstage. I started pulling the money out and putting it all together to count. I took a left a climbed three steps where the other dancers and workers have mirrors and make-up kits in open room on the left, and a few had lube and condoms and other stuff about. Straight down the hall is a door that leads the the private rooms, which all look shockingly like a 90's bowling alley but covered in... bodily fluids. The walls of our back stage room are a yellowy-beige with a plant or two that are definitely fake because no one is gonna care to water plants in a sex club. There was a couch in a far corner made of purple soft upholstery where a few of the other workers often slept overnight if they had no where to go. Cameron is one that I knew stayed almost every night, and worked a Diner job in the day. He was really trying to get his life together. I only ever needed to take a minute to breathe after a... particularly rough session now, but I spent my first few months on that couch. I heard a friend of mine speaking loudly as he always does, who insists I call him Remy because he won't tell me his real name. Coming around the corner I could see that he was wearing once of his skimpier outfits. It was hot pink with sequins and feathers, and left practically _nothing_ to the imagination. Accompanied by his favorite strappy black heels of course. Remy was discussing how he was harassed by a man the other day who wanted so desperately to be a private caller of his. Remy was smart. Like most of the others here, he never gave anyone his real name. For safety and privacy, but also I guess it's the last shred of dignity you have when you sink as low as this. I was however far too young and trusting when I started and unfortunately gave everyone my real name. Remy never dove as deep into this life as I had, and kept strictly to dancing. It's better that way. Once you go too far, you can't find a way back no matter how much you may wanna back pedal. He was still going on about this man as I walked up to him and a few others on the couch. As I did, I flicked through my stack of cash and proceeded to fan myself with it, if only to match Remy’s level of _extra_.

"Oh _can it_ Rem, don't pretend you're not getting some stranger's dick every night." I shot at him with a wink, earning some "ooh"s and chuckles from other dancers.

"At least I'm not doing it for money baby. I’m not on sale like you." He pulled his shades down the bridge of his nose just to peer over them. I stuck my tongue out at him and he chuckled. "Nah all jokes aside though, you know I don't do that V. I may dance but I save that shit you’re doing for my boyfriend only, who is surprisingly cool about the whole dancing thing. As long as I don't cheat, which I won't because he's a keeper."

"Didn't you say that about your last boyfriend? Whom you may or may not have cheated on?" I smiled. 

"Well that's only because I found out he cheated first." The rest of our... coworkers? I guess you could say coworkers. The rest of our coworkers were laughing their asses off, which confuses me because one out of three interactions with Remy and I go like this. You'd think they'd be bored of it by now but I guess they don't get enough entertainment.

"Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night hotshot." I nodded to him as I grabbed his Starbucks cup off his mirror stand, sat in his chair, and drank from his pink drink with a smirk on my face.

"HEY! Keep your dirty dick-sucking lips away from my Starbucks! Who knows where they've been?" 

I choked. After coughing a bit to clear it up I let out a roaring laugh matching the others.

"Hey you guys mind clearing out for a hot sec, I wanna have a word with my favorite _V-card_ over here." I rolled my eyes at his stupid, yet surprisingly clever nickname. Well... clever for Remy, anyway. I find my response to Remy is often an eye-roll. I sauntered over as the other guys cleared out.

"Alright. Serious talk time. You don't seem all there today. Ya alright?" He said as he waved his hand in front of my eyes before I playfully swatted it away. I opened my mouth to respond when he answered for me.

"You have a call tonight." He stated. I nodded.

"Fifteen minutes." I said.

"Are you ready?" Remy asked so quickly that he practically interrupted me. 

"I mean can you ever quite be ready for this lifestyle?" I said with an awkward laugh but he stared dead on. "Sorry. Right. Serious talk time... I don't- I mean yeah I'm ready. You know I went numb to all this a long time ago. It's better than how my parents treated me so It's not the worst thing ever. I've just had a hard time getting into the mindset for calls lately..."

A devious smile grew in his face. Uh-oh.

"You're in love aren't you Virgil?"

"I- Wh- I-... No!" I struggled to get out, a blush spreading across my cheeks.

"Yup. You are. I've seen it time and time again. Stuff like this becomes harder when you find someone that you wish was the _only_ one who got to experience all this-" He said gesturing to my- erm- revealing outfit.

"Whoa-" I interrupted. "Who said I wanted to fuck this person, that's a big jump from having a crush."

"SO THERE IS SOMEONE!" Remy practically jumped.

"I fuckin' hate you." I said trying to suppress the smile on my face at his antics. He giggled and grabbed my hands when his face went serious again. I hate serious Remy more than normal fun Remy, it makes me feel like I'm getting a disapproved dad talk, and I already have one overly friendly father-figure.

"Look V, let me level with you. I've worked here a long time, twice as long as you have. And I had the benefit of going into it as an adult with a slightly healthier mindset than you did. And while I may not have gone as far as you have, I can confidently say I have more experience from watching and observing other workers, even doing certain things, and _trust me_ when I say I'm experienced," He said with flamboyant hand gesticulation. Eye-roll. "So I know a lot more about this whole culture than even you do. And- look, I became a dancer because I'm extra, and like to live life to the fullest, and wanted this experience, _and fell in love with the attention might I add._ But that's what's separates us Virgil. You came from a broken home with a broken view of the world and a desperation to make any sort of living and that instantly put you in more danger because you're gonna go too far. Look I could stop anytime, this is all just fun and games for me. Hell, I _am_ stopping after this week, you know that. But you dug yourself into a hole that I'm worried you're not gonna be able to get out of." I started crying. I guess I've been doing that a lot lately when I get shocked by people who seem to actually care for me. My roommates have been surprising me a lot like that recently. They’re great, and seem to actually care about me which feels... new. Remy wiped the tears off my face. "Okay, I guess what I'm trying to say V is- I- that you're so young and full of potential. I've seen people come in and out and the desperate ones always leave more broken than when they came, or leave dead. _And I've seen your art, girlfriend._ You wanted to do something with that once upon a time, so as soon as you see an opening... book it. Get as far away as possible. I don't want this place tarnishing some poor nineteen year old kid who could've been something." I felt hopeful for the first time in a while. Maybe Remy is right. "And maybe those new roommates of yours could help out, huh? You just told me about how much you love the new apartment since you moved in three months ago, and it feels like you have some real friends now. And didn't you say that one of them is like _fabulously rich? (And if I didn't have a boyfriend I'd say hook us up.)"_ Eye-roll. I laughed. "I'm sure you could get some help if you really needed it. Plus you always got me. I may not have access to my trust fund right now, but trust me baby when I say I’m gonna get back in my parents’ good graces, then I can set you up. I might even tell you my real name if you keep in touch when both of us are out of here. But that includes you out of here."

"Ooh now that sounds promising." I retorted. Remy chuckled as he wiped the moisture from my face again. 

"Now go fix your mascara girl, nobody wants a walking sob-story." He's back. "And uh- while you're at it bring me my pink drink, I'm thirsty after all that talking." Definitely back. I chuckled.

I proceeded to the station next to Remy's and opened my box of makeup. I pulled out my Too Faced™ _Better than Sex_ mascara and fixed myself, as well as put another layer of power foundation to fix what had been either sweat off or cried off. As I did I had time to think. Maybe I should ask for help out of this situation. Remy made some good points. _How do I even begin to explain this to my roommates?_ I guess I won't until I'm sure of what I want. I mean I guess I could-

"Virgil! You're needed in room 3!" Fuck. It's time already. My sort of boss/pimp/whatever the fuck you wanna call it yelled out for me. His name is Remus and he's got the classic porn star 'stache like you'd expect. He always dresses in strange paisley pattern green shirts. I guess it's a brand for him. He was just as abrasive as most of the vultures (which goes without saying was Remy's nickname for our audience), and only ever had any sort of decency when one of his "possessions" was mistreated by a customer. He had a strict rule against any sort of hitting or violence in the building even if consensual for the sake of avoiding law suits. So I guess it's really not that decent after all. It's more selfish, but hey at least he somewhat cares for our well-beings, even if it is only for the income. He has stated though, he doesn't care what we do with customers outside of the building, considering some guys would be willing to pay for services personally and not through _The Black Kat_ _._ This way they could take the "kitties" home and do whatever they pleased outside of our regulations. And it usually brings them to the club as new business. Recently I have been Remus's most valuable "kitty"- which he insisted on calling us of course- so he can get a little handsy when handing me over to a client.

I walked over toward the door to the private rooms area when he stopped me and pulled me closer to him. A little too close.

"Quick refresher. We have to tell them the years of experience of our kitties so they know what they’re in for, which for you is four, so If someone asks how old you are?"

"25."

"Good. And if he gets violent?"

"Push the panic button under the table."

"Good girl. We don't need any upset client using the fact you started underage against us... All though you _never_ seem to have dissatisfied customers so it likely won't be a problem." Remus said with a smirk and quick ass grab before ushering me through the door.

"Alright Virgil, he payed me in advance so I have your cut with me. He's payed for a dance, and uh- a little dick sucking. I'll give it to you after because he's been waiting. Now gimme a kiss." I stood on my tip toes and kissed his cheek, which he makes all his kittens do when they take privates. He always tastes like garbage, alcohol, and vaguely like pickles. I hate it.

I stepped toward the door and opened it to find a man in orange garb on the couch. At least he was moderately attractive. I had already gotten into character and kept the fake sexy smirk as I slowly walked toward him in my purple edgy punk outfit and heeled boots. I straddled his lap and pulled at his tie. He reeked of alcohol and probably other stuff I didn't want to think about. He just became a lot less attractive. "What do you want me to call you big boy?" I asked looking for a name. "Call me Daddy." An unfortunately common occurrence. His hands started roaming and I knew I was in for it.

"Well Daddy," I said seductively, "Come here to let off some steam? Let loose a little?" He hummed, and I leaned forward close to his ear. "Well I got just the thing for you." I whispered.

God get me out of this hell. 

~~~

"You ready to head out?" Remy asked me, after I had cleaned myself up a bit, wiped off my makeup, and put on street clothes so as not to draw attention. For the sake of my roommates as well. It would not be easy to explain away my work outfits. I pulled on my black and purple stitched sweatshirt I’ve had for years, which is threadbare in spots. It’s always felt safe to me, plus at least the stares I get when I wear it are judgmental or shocked, and not... _hungry._ Those are the stares I’m all too used to and I really don’t like it.

"Yeah.. you know you didn't have to stay here for me Rem, the other dancers left like a half an hour ago."

"Puh-LEASE girlfriend, you know I got nothing going on. Plus you really think I'm letting you walk out of here alone?" He said still nursing his Starbucks cup. How the hell hasn't he finished it yet?

"Thanks." I smiled.

"Hey look I know we tease each other and whatnot, but I need you to know that I meant everything I said before. I know that having to do your calls is eating at you and hurting," I opened my mouth to protest but he wouldn't let me. He's too smart for me. "And DON'T give me any of that bullshit, _V-Card,_ you know you can't lie to me. It's hurting you. And if I'm being honest it hurts me too seeing you like that, I mean come on whose heart wasn't gonna break for this adorable fifteen year old kid starting to dance to make ends meet. And I mean it only took two years before you took up privates... I mean it's saaad hun." Remy said deepening his voice on the last two words, while also pushing his sunglasses down over his eyes from the top of his head. It's fucking three in the morning why does he have them? For dramatic effect obviously, I answered my own question. We had started walking during that and left out the back exit. It was bitterly cold today, even with my sweatshirt. "No but seriously, I love you, and you need to do something better with your life. Don't let this time waste away. You won't get it back." He draped his arm around me shoulders and pretended to stumble for a bit when he stopped short. 

"Fuck." Remy breathed out.

"What is it?" I asked, worriedly. 

"I left my phone inside."

"I thought it never left your hand, Rem. Except when it's replaced with a dick."

"HA. Funny." He rolled his eyes and I chuckled. "Wait right here I'm gonna go grab it."

"Hurry back, it's scaaawy." I teased. 

"Don't be a baby, girl I'm coming right back." I giggled as he bolted inside. I wasn't even a minute before someone had approached me on the side walk. I immediately recognized him as my gentleman caller from earlier tonight, somehow even more drunk than before.

"Heyyyy Cutieeee," He said, very clearly slurring his words. "I had a great time toniiiight."

"Glad to hear it, request me again sometime then, huh? Then we can have more fun." I didn't mean it, but money was money and selling your services was important.

"Ohhh I am baby, Daddy's requesting to have more fun right now."

"No I don't think-" I started when I was cut off by hands on my shoulders, and soon enough a brick wall against my back. Panic started to well up in me as I stood shocked at how strong he was considering his blood alcohol content was probably .3. I tried to scream for help but was cut off I felt his hand jab at my throat and then proceed to grab it. He leaned his face into my neck and began sucking while his other hand grabbed my wrist so tightly I knew there would be a bruise. Probably on my neck, too. And hickeys. _Please get off._ My blood pounded in my ears and I could barely hear a thing. The hand around my wrist let go and started sliding towards my crotch and he _squeezed._ Can’t... breathe... in... out. _Shit shit shit._ I tried to struggle more until the next thing I knew he as on the ground. 

"Get the FUCK away from him!" Remy. THANK GOD. I guess all it took was a slight push to send the orange-clad drunk toppling he was so intoxicated. I had sunk down against the wall, and Remy had helped me up.

"Virgil are you alright?" Obviously not. I don't know why I started feeling angry at that. Why do people always ask that when you're clearly not.

"I'm fine." I lied.

"I told you, desperation is dangerous, they can practically smell it on you. You're lucky I was here. Want me to walk you home?" Really Remy? A lecture about desperation again right now? 

"I said I was fine." My anger bubbled up, and I knew how this was gonna end. With me taking it out on my closest friend, just like always.

"Holy shit V, are you already bruised?" I now felt concern. I looked down at my wrist. Fuck. I can't cover that up before I get home. "You shouldn't have bruised that easily. You've been skipping on eating again haven't you? Girl I've been meaning to talk to you about that, you have to take care of yours-"

"I SAID I'M FINE! FUCK REMY, JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" I stormed off toward my apartment with a clearly concerned and dazed, and probably now ex-best friend, but I didn't have the energy to care.

~~~

I walked down the chilly November streets until I reached my apartment along the way. Normally I stop and look in the window of what few places might still be open, like other bars, and often a few coffee shops, but my anger kept me focused on getting home, and getting home quick. I could take a nice hot shower and get some not-so-well-deserved rest.

I walked up to the building and pulled out my key, and proceeded to the elevator. We lived on the third floor in a nice brick building, that actually even had a pool and a few other things in the back of the building. It was in a generally nice area, and surprisingly quiet. Perfect. And dirt cheap for some reason though, because the only problem we've had in the three months we lived here was a water heater issue and the building maintenance man fixed it for us free of charge. The landlord covers that shit. Other than that there hasn’t been a single problem. I guess sometimes you get lucky with housing situations.

As I entered the door to our apartment, I could already hear the bickering. I stood leaning against the doorway smugly, waiting for my moment to make a dramatic entrance. After using the sleeve of my sweatshirt to hide the bruise on my wrist, of course.

The apartment had light blue walls, dark wood floors, and white wood framing. To the left of the door is our little open concept kitchenette with granite counters. Straight ahead was our living room with a couch, a love seat, and a beanbag chair. There was a T.V. in the corner on a white wood stand filled with movies, and a clear glass coffee table with board games underneath. Directly to my right is my bedroom, and slightly beyond is a hallway with a full bathroom and Romans room. Beyond the kitchenette is Logan's room, a half bath, and Patton's room.

"Okay so I flubbed the dance a little bit, but I _killed_ the singing and the monologue, so who knows how it went. But two out of three ain't half bad." My overly dramatic and shockingly sensitive roommate, Roman, said. One could infer he was discussing an audition he had today.

"Oh kiddo, I'm sure you got the lead. You're so talented!" Patton. The aforementioned friendly father-figure. His positivity can be simultaneously refreshing and sickening. I don't understand it.

"Well of course it isn't half bad, It'd be one third bad. Your audition would've been half bad if there were any even number of criteria, in which only half of said criteria had ended with you feeling like you had done sufficiently. I _would_ say there could be any odd integer or fraction as a denominator, but you can’t exactly have a portion of a criteria in this situation. For example, if you eliminated the singing criteria-" Began Logan, the super intelligent, and unfortunately too literal roommate.

"ELIMINATE SINGING?! WHAT KIND OF MONSTER ARE YOU?!" Roman exclaimed.

Logan rolled is eyes. "As I was saying, if you eliminated the singing criteria then there'd be one aspect of the audition you felt less then confident in, and another in which you did. And this would apply to any multiples of the sort, though at a certain point the number of criteria would become ridiculous to implement in this situation." The other two stared back at Logan.

"What? Do you not understand the basic concept of fractions? I could explain it again if you'd-"

"No, Logan. We understand fractions because we're NOT IN FIRST GRADE. Seriously, why did you think we would need you to explain that, Square root of four-eyes." retorted Roman. And that's my cue. Before Patton has a chance to chastise him.

"That was a rough one Roman, your insult name game is slipping... But I do have to say that was the most entertained I'd been all day. Oh yeah, I heard that whole thing." I said nonchalantly with my arms crossed.

"VIRGIL!" Patton yelled and rushed over to hug me. I hear a " ‘Sup emo nightmare." and a "Greetings, Virgil." from the living room. Patton grabbed my wrist to pull me into the living room with them. I flinched when he grabbed my bruised wrist. I hope no one had noticed.

"So how was work?" Patton asked.

"It was fine."

"At a bar? Right?" asked Roman slowly dragging out his words. I obviously hadn't told them about my job, but they had turned it into a bit of a game to decipher. I couldn't tell if I thought it endearing, or unnerving considering they could find out the truth. Patton had stepped into the kitchen to heat up the kettle.

"That doesn't track, Roman. He said he had worked there for four years. You can't legally serve alcohol if you're under the age of eighteen." Logan said. Well where I'm working isn't exactly the most legal setting either. And it was very illegal how young I was when they let me start.

"See, I thought about that. So it’s gotta be like some Italian restaurant with a bar, so he was a _server_ , and then got _promoted_ to bartender." Roman quipped back with a lot of emphasis on the word promoted, as if he’d cracked the case in a police investigation.

"Ooh not quite, but good guess. I guess you'll have to try again." I sassed. _Why am I encouraging this? This is bad for me._

 _"Damn it."_ Roman said.

"LANGUAGE!" Patton said from the stove.

"Jesus Christ, I'm twenty-two dude, and you're not my dad. Is anything acceptable to say? That was barely a curse word." He chuckled.

"Well... I just think it's impolite."

There was a pause, and I finally found time to ask them what had been burning in my brain since I arrived. "What are you guys all doing up so late?"

Logan adjusted his glasses. "Roman had been stressing over his audition and had decided he wanted to get- how did you say it?"

"Absolutely fucking trashed." said Roman with a chuckle, causing me to laugh the hardest I had today. He _would_ get wasted after a audition.

"Yes. That. Uh- when Patton intervened and made some hot cocoa and insisted we watch movies or play board games instead. I have been up deliberating over a current science project for school, and it is likely I'll stay up until I have a sound plan. And Patton has off from the bakery tomorrow, but however is assisting the youth group with their community service in the afternoon. So he took up comforting Roman, trying to get me to relax, as well as waiting for you to come home." Logan explained.

"Speaking of hot cocoa, I just reheated the water kiddo, if you'd like some." 

"Uh sure Pat. Sounds great." I said and took a spot on the floor between the love seat and the short end of the coffee table- between Roman on my left, who had moved the beanbag to him, and Logan on my right sitting on the couch

I watched as Patton scooped the powder into a mug and started to stir, while Roman and Logan turned their attention back to screen currently playing Big Hero Six. It was likely the only movie the two could compromise on. The thought of that argument brought a smile to my face. Patton came over and placed a mug on the table for me, and brought one for himself as well as he sat next to Logan and deeply inhaled the chocolate smell. As I reached out to my mug, and a hand coming from my left grabbed it quicker. I watched on with a fake slack-jawed look as Roman took a sip of my hot cocoa. 

"Um, excuse me?" I grinned. It was hard not to. There might've been a little blushing going on as well. But you didn't hear that from me.

"That is for insulting my _insulting abilities_ Eebore." Roman said without looking away from the screen.

"Once again, excuse me?"

"Like Eeyore? From Winnie the Poo?" Roman continued. I laughed.

"Oh my god, that's the worst one you've made up so far. Dude you need an insult tutor. Want me to help, Twinker Bell?" That one earned a chuckle from even Logan, Roman finally looked away from the screen to turn his attention to me, his face red with embarrassment. "What? Aw, you mad I called you a twink?" The other two looked with smiles and stifled laughter as I smirked, sipping my hot chocolate.

"Yo-YOU'RE MORE OF A TWINK THAN I AM YOU- YOU-" Roman's face dropped to what I assumed was disappointment and he stared sightly blow my eye line.

"Can't think of an insult? Maybe you do need a tutor..." I quipped. He continued staring. My smirk dropped. "Roman? Is something wrong?"

"Virgil what happened to your neck?" Roman asked. I reached my hands up to my neck. _What is he going on abou-_ _OH SHIT._ I felt a slight tinge of pain when I touched my neck, and remembered the encounter outside the club.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about. I must've accidentally scratched myself at some point today." I stuttered.

"It's a bruise, not scratches. Bruises don't just happen." _Fuck._ Why is Roman being so astute now of all times?

"Well I don't know what to tell you, I don't know how it happened. It barely hurts so-"

"It hurts? Do you need something? Let me see." Patton chimed in, and stood up to walk over. Logan's expression was filled with concern as well. Roman pulled at my collar slightly so Patton could see and I flinched and swatted his hands away.

"JEEZ calm down guys it's not a big deal."

"Did you manage to get that at work? Was there an altercation?" Logan asked. I gulped.

"You guys are jumping to conclusions so fast my head is spinning. It's just a fucking bruise guys." I expected Patton to correct my language but his concern overruled his desire to chastise. That's concerning me. "Look guys I'm just gonna shower and head to bed." I stood up and went toward my room to grab pajamas and whatever else I might need.

Patton made a desperate attempt to get me to stay and talk "But you didn't finish your-" 

"The hot cocoa was great, Patton." I cut him off with a genuine smile.

My bedroom didn't have much other than a purple comforter on an older creaky bed, a single dresser, and a few emo band posters from my early high school days. I had the smallest room in the house, which made sense since I had the least possessions. Roman insisted on the largest because of his king size bed and a million outfits. He's the rich roommate if that hadn't been extremely obvious from looking at him. Logan didn't own much either but he had shelves full of books. Patton tended to be sentimental and kept many things from his childhood and liked to collect memories, so he had the second largest. I grabbed a slightly ripped red t-shirt and black sweats, as well as a pair of boxers. I went to open the door, but only opened it a crack when I could hear the guys talking in the living room. I felt bad snooping, but I couldn't help it.

"I'm quite concerned about this job he has if he's returning with injuries and refusing to talk about them." Logan stated.

"Yeah I'm feeling a little queasy about it." said Roman.

"Well we don't know that's what happened. Virgil's right we jumped to a bunch of conclusions and it probably triggered his anxiety.” Added Patton. Thank god for his extreme optimism.” If something's up we have to approach this carefully." _Never mind_ _he’s suspicious too._

Fuck. I made sure to make some noise when "opening" my door so they would know I was coming and stop talking about me. Like I'm not right here. I hate that shit.

I smiled quickly at them as I towed along to bathroom with my clothes and phone in hand. _God, I needed a shower._ I could still feel the hands of today's pervert- _vulture,_ I could hear Remy correcting- around my throat and wrist. I stripped off my clothes and took note of the damage. It wasn't as bad as I thought, but Rem's definitely right that it wouldn't have been that bad if I wasn't malnourished. _They like 'em scrawny_. Remus. Ugh the thought of him gives me chills. I stepped foot into the shower and started scrubbing the day's grime off. One thing about my job, it feels like no matter what I do I'm never fully clean. At least today didn't totally suck. Before work I had some time to just hang out with Roman and listen to his audition, and things were going well tonight until he looked at my neck. _Scrub it away._ I was tempted to rinse my mouth out, even Patton's hot chocolate couldn't mask the taste of the freak who tried to jump me in the alley behind the club. He seemed normal- or at least as normal as someone who pays for sex can- until then. I guess they always do. _I can’t believe I sucked him off._ Or maybe I can, he payed. I realized I had been in the shower a bit too long when It felt like my skin had started tingling from scrubbing so much, and I looked a little red. I stepped out and dried off, the pulled on my clothes, dropped my towel in the hamper, and brushed my teeth before exiting the bathroom. When waltzing into the living area I attracted all their attentions again. _Great._

I yawned and made a small solute. "I'm heading off to bed guys, good night. A-And thanks for being concerned, I appreciate it. But you guys need to calm down." I said with a chuckle trying to lighten the tension. _You made it worse._ A chorus of "good nights" erupted and I trudged to my room. I practically face planted straight onto my bed and knocked out. It was a stressful day. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't let a few tears fall before nodding off. I checked my phone to see a Snapchat of Remy looking happy in his bed cuddled up next to his boyfriend with the caption “You’re a bitch <3.” I guess he forgave me enough to tease me again. Good

_At least he's happy._


End file.
